


and of all the stories that they told, this was never one

by waterlilyvioletfog



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: M/M, Repression, Robert's Rebellion, Siege of Storm's End, childhood crushes, stannis is GAY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 22:47:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19094590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterlilyvioletfog/pseuds/waterlilyvioletfog
Summary: Stannis Baratheon is awful soft for such a hard, tough Man.Or, times where Stannis was a lot less tough than he seems.





	and of all the stories that they told, this was never one

**Author's Note:**

> I entirely blame @gaystannis on tumblr for this >:<

ONE

 

The first time Stannis met Ned Stark, Stannis had just had his ninth nameday. Jon Arryn had decided it was time for him and his two charges to visit Storm’s End all together. Robert was eleven. Ned was ten. 

They’d all walked down the gangplank together and Stannis had been waiting for them along with his parents. 

Lord Arryn had come down first, a middle-aged man with kind lines about his face wearing pale blue and white. Lord Arryn greeted Steffon like a friend and Cassana with respect. 

“And you must be Stannis,” Lord Arryn said to Stannis. He offered Stannis his hand to shake, and Stannis shook his hand with grim competence. 

“I am, my Lord.” 

Stannis thought Lord Arryn seemed a good sort of man. 

Next came Robert, laughing and loud. He’d gotten even taller since Stannis had last seen him, which he did not think was at all fair. Older brothers ought to have the common decency and respect not to grow every time one took one’s eye off them! 

“Robert.” 

“Stannis.” 

“You’ve grown.” 

“You haven’t.” That wasn’t true. Stannis had grown. It was just that  _ both _ of them had grown and now they had the same difference between them as before! 

Finally came a boy Stannis didn’t know. 

“And this is my other ward,” Lord Arryn said, “Eddard Stark, second son of Lord Rickard.” 

Eddard Stark was a year older than Stannis, but barely of a height with him. He had thick brown hair kept neat and tidy but a little long. He had a long, solemn face with good cheekbones and a straight nose. He looked up shyly from his feet to give Steffon and Cassana their dues. 

His grey eyes were like the storm-tossed sea when they met Stannis’s- cold and deep and terrifying and full of gravity. Stannis thought he was drowning. He was glad. 

The party from the Vale stayed several weeks. Every time Stannis saw Eddard, he was in Robert’s company. Robert was usually smiling broadly and Eddard was usually blank-faced but for a little curve of the lips. Every time Stannis saw Eddard, his heart hurt a little. 

_ Jealousy, _ Stannis told himself. How many times had he wished that he and his brother could be friends, that Robert could pay him attention? Jealousy, that was all Stannis felt for this boy. 

 

TWO 

 

“Stannis, I’m hungry!” 

“I know, Renly.”

Stannis knew, he understood, he really did. Renly was only six! Of course he was hungry, of course he would complain! It was to be expected. But the little boy was absolutely impossible and he always wanted Stannis’s attention. 

Stannis couldn’t give Renly his attention. All his focus was on saving Storm’s End, as it had been since the war had first started. Robert was out there, battling the Dragon. Stannis was needed here, guarding their home. He did not need Renly making his task harder than it already was!

And Gods, it was hard. 

It was hard to decide to side with Robert and not the King. It was hard to order the men to prepare for a seige. It was hard to tell Mace Tyrell “no” day in and day out when every day their food and supplies dwindled down to a trickle and then almost nothing and now nothing at all. It was hard to eat the dogs and the rats and the horses and the boots most of all. It was hard to stare into the mirror at his once thin, now emaciated face every morning. It was hard to stare down into the Tyrell camps where the lords of the Reach held happy court and then eat his boot leather and then say no, once again. 

Stannis did it all anyway, staring out the windows of his keep, waiting for someone,  _anyone._

And it was especially hard because Renly didn’t understand any of it. He was only six, after all. What did he care of their brother’s wars, of the ashes of other fathers, of the savaged maidenheads of girls he’d never met? Renly was just hungry. 

Renly was playing with a toy stag Steffon had brought home for Robert on some trip or another long ago. Stannis remembered that when Robert had first been given it, it had been soft and plump. It had faded now to grey and it sagged in places. 

“Die, foul scum!” Renly said, making Staggy pretend to fight the Tyrell army below them. 

“Alright, that’s enough.” 

“No!” Renly pouted. Before the war, he could always get what he wanted by pouting. Now Stannis took it as a sign that Renly was on the verge of throwing a tantrum in exhaustion. 

“Yes.”

Stannis scooped the tired child into his arms and carried him up the steps to his room. It was a lot of steps and Renly was not so small as he had once been. 

When they reached Renly’s room, Stannis sat him down on the bed and helped him take off his boots and every bit of clothing that he oughtn’t sleep him (although Stannis would be sleeping in his clothes again, he knew he would) and tucked him into his bed. 

“Good night, Renly.” 

No response. He was already dead asleep. The little wretch looked sweet as anything when he was asleep. Probably to stop someone from murdering him while he was abed. Bastard. No wonder all the nursemaids adored him. 

Stannis’s stomach gurgled like some great beast. 

_ Gods above, I cannot do this much longer. _

His men sang songs in the night.  _ Blessed Mother, font of mercy, save our sons from war we pray... _

 

THREE 

 

Davos of Flea Bottom answered Stannis’s prayers when all the Gods did not. Stannis had already stopped believing in the Seven long ago but this was certainly the clincher.

_ Goodbye, Seven of Westeros. I pray to Davos of Flea Bottom _ now. 

He was lowborn, rough, a smuggler- he did not even deny it. Honesty was something Stannis felt like he hadn't heard in a long, long time. 

Davos did not ask for praise for smuggling in food past the Redwynes, though Stannis was willing to write the songs himself. He made it clear that he had done it in hope of reward in terms of money, but still- money was all he was after. He was a simple man. He didn’t want more than that. Recognition, knighthood, lordship- Stannis was more than ready to give it all to this man. He didn't refuse any of it, but he didn't demand it as payment either. 

Davos had brown eyes and brown hair and simple features. He was older than Stannis by about five years. He had a wife and children. He had a little boat and he was a criminal. Stannis would have to mete out justice once the war was over. 

But he was honest. And he had brought Stannis onions and fish to eat, even if he did want something in return. And he had even agreed to the punishment of having part of his fingers chopped off. 

Stannis’s heart stuttered a little whenever he was near.

_ Gratitude _ , Stannis told himself.  _ Without him, I would be dead. _ And that was all there was to it, after all. There was nothing else it could be. 

He ate the onions and the fish and felt himself become a little less hard with every mouthful. 


End file.
